She looked long and tenderly in his eyes. She was--going to leave him;
she could afford the truth. She was brave now.

"Yes," she whispered.

"And I know you to be--what I want. Isn't that enough? Can we not trust
each--for the rest?"

"Yes, if the white hills could shut us forever from the other things."

"Other things?"

"Yes, the things of to-morrow. Duty, the demands that lie--over the
Alps."

"I--renounce them all!"

"But they will not renounce us!"

Travers felt her slipping from him. A man whose youth has been denied, as
his had, is a puppet in Fate's hands when youth makes its claims.

"I--mean to have you! Do you hear me? I mean to have you."

And just then Margaret Moffatt drew near. Calmly, smilingly, she came
like one playing her part in a perfectly arranged drama.

"You are here? Ready for home? Wasn't it sublime and exactly as it should
be? We are so nice and friendly with our real selves."